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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694772">Late Night Call</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu'>RenkonNairu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sky High (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Manslaughter, Pre-Canon, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, disposing of a body, heroes are not supposed to kill, the person you call when you need to hide a body</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:00:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Barron Battle received a call in the middle of the night. It's Mara Peace and he could hear that she'd been crying as she whispers over the line "I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barron Battle/Ms. Peace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Late Night Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The phone rang…</p><p>Battle rolled over in bed and put a pillow over his head. </p><p>The ringing continued… </p><p>It rang…</p><p>And rang…</p><p>It was not stopping. </p><p>Finally, Battle snarled and got up out of bed to put an end to the sound. Stalking into the living room, he practically wrenched the receiver off its cradle and put it to his ear. “What!?”</p><p>He expected some equally bad tempered voice on the other end. Or maybe one of his acquaintances from oversees that just wasn’t aware of the time difference. </p><p>It <i>was</i> the voice of one of his acquaintances. Just not the acquaintance he was expecting. </p><p>At first, all he heard was the person on the other end sobbing. </p><p>A female voice, sobbing. </p><p>“Who is this?” He asked. Demanded, actually. He was still transitioning from ‘just woke up and cranky’ to ‘aware of what he was doing and in control’. </p><p>“I-“ The voice on the other end choked out. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Battle couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before. He didn’t have many female acquaintances, and he’d been around them while crying even less. “-didn’t know who to call…”</p><p>With actual words, his sleep fogged memory was able to conjure up an image of a face to put to the voice. A round face and dainty chin. Small button nose. Pouty lips. Hazel eyes. Hair redder than red. Hair the color of living fire. A woman he had spent one amazing night with a few months ago, then never saw or spoke to since. Not since, the morning after, he inexplicably confessed to her that he was a supervillain. She threw a fireball in his face and flew away. </p><p>Battle hadn’t seen or heard from her since. </p><p>There was no reason for her to be calling him now. Especially not while she was very obviously upset. </p><p>“About what?” He asked, voice under control now. He was awake, and he was calm. A little confused still, but calm. </p><p>She was crying again. Not the same kind of loud choking sobs. More like the softer, gasping cries of someone forcing themselves to be under control and calm down. She managed to get herself so under control, in fact, that her next words were whispered so softly Battle almost didn’t hear them. “Heroes aren’t supposed to kill.”</p><p>Battle relaxed. Understanding why she called him, of all people. Of everyone in her life she could turn to for help –of which he assumed there must be many- she chose to call him because she ‘didn’t know who else to call’. Because no one else that she knew would have his knowledge or skill set. Because no one else she knew was a supervillain. </p><p>Shifting the phone to his other ear, Battle picked up the pen and notepad he kept by the phone for almost this exact purpose. </p><p>“How long has the body been dead for?” He asked, then listened to her gasp and wheeze for a couple more seconds before she answered. He nodded. It was fresh. “Where is it now?” He wrote down the address of an abandoned building gin the warehouse district. “And where are you now?” She was at an intersection not far from the building. It was the nearest payphone. (Battle filed away the implication that it implied she still had his number memorized. Now was not the time to be thinking about that.) “Okay, do not move the body. I will meet you there. Wash your hands or burn your gloves. Take off your costume and wash that if you have to. Get rid of any blood or evidence that could tie you to the body.”</p><p>“But- I’m a hero…” She began to argue, but even through the phone, Battle could hear that there wasn’t really any conviction in the words. In this exact moment she did not feel like a hero. </p><p>“I will meet you there.” Battle repeated. “Don’t do anything stupid.” (Like turn herself into the cops and confess to a wrongful death like some kind of... <i>hero</i>.) </p><p>He hung up the phone, then went back into the bedroom to pull his costume out of the closet. It was just a quick change. He wasn’t heading out for any official supervillain business. This was just a quick jaunt to help out a… friend? A one night stand he occasionally still thought about fondly…? Acquaintance. Better just stick with acquaintance. It was less messy, and tonight was looking like it was going to be messy enough on its own. </p><p>Maxville was a city that never slept and Battle was not the only car on the road. It wasn’t even 2am yet. Bars were still open. But at least it was ‘late night traffic’ and not ‘mid-day traffic’ (which was basically just a parking lot with tri-color lights). Battle made good time to the warehouse. </p><p>At first glance, the place looked normal and unassuming. </p><p>It was an old building. Probably a factory originally, then converted into a warehouse. Then just abandoned and disused. There were lots of buildings like that in the city. Passed between hands, from one owner to another, housed one business, then another business, then another other business, until –finally- whoever owned it last just gave up and let it sit. Unused, but not torn down. Something to be claimed on taxes, but otherwise not utilized in any way. </p><p>Such buildings were an ideal location for more low-budget villains to make their hideouts in. Mara Peace –Flamebird, she would be in costume when he met up with her, he needed to remember to call her Flamebird- probably tracked some C-list villain to their hideout. There was a climatic battle, and the poor villain lost their life. The whole scenario seemed pretty cut and dry to Battle. </p><p>Except, superheroes were not supposed to kill. That was The Rule. The one Rule that all heroes, even the edgy and brooding ones, followed. That was what united heroes. Do Not Kill. …And Flamebird just killed someone. She broke The Rule. No wonder she was sobbing when she called him. </p><p>No wonder it was him she called at all. </p><p>Battle pulled his car into the ally between the building and the one next to it, then cut his lights. Before getting out, he cast a cautious glance out the window. Checking behind him to see if he was followed or if anyone had decided to come inspect the abandoned building that has cars pulling up to it in the middle of the night. But there was no one. He checked the ally, too. Just to make sure he didn’t choose to park on the same side of the building the body was on. </p><p>Satisfied that he hadn’t been followed, and he wasn’t about to step out of his car into a puddle of torso, Battle cut the engine and climbed out. </p><p>He began walking the perimeter of the building. Turning a corner to see what was behind it and –bingo! There was the body.</p><p>Not really much of a body anymore, actually. More like a puddle. Falls tended to do that to a body. The higher the fall the more liquidy the remains. </p><p>Organs ruptured, skin burst open like a water balloon, fluids leaking everywhere. Only the solid bones of the skeleton kept the shape. Made sure it still looked identifiably human when found. </p><p>It took a moment longer for him to find Flamebird. </p><p>She was huddled in the space between two dumpster bins. Her face buried in her knees. Her arms wrapped around her legs. She looked like she was crying again. Her mask was off. Held loosely in one hand. But when she looked up at him, her eyes were dry. </p><p>Hazel eyes went wide at first. Startled. Then melted into an expression of relief the moment she recognized him. “Barron!”</p><p>He was not expecting her to fly up, practically launch herself at him, and press her body against his. Wrapping her arms around him as if he were suddenly and inexplicably her anchor. The only stable thing in the world keeping her grounded. </p><p>They went on one date.</p><p>They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in six months. </p><p>Yet, suddenly, here she was. Clinging to him as if he were the only thing that were real. </p><p>“Easy, Sparky…” He muttered into her hair. The scent taking him back to the one night they shared together. She stilled used the same shampoo. An airy, floral scent. Some mix of lavender and rose. Like an English garden. He felt his arms start to wrap themselves around her in return, one hand about to settle on her ass. He moved it at the last moment before contact. Placing both hands on the upper part of her back instead. “We gotta get to work now.”</p><p>“Work?” She asked into his shoulder. </p><p>“On the body.” He reminded her. </p><p>Under his hands, Battle felt the muscles of her back tense. Next to his ear, he heard her clear her throat. She pulled away from him. Floating. Afraid of her boots touching the bloody ground. She slid her mask back on over her eyes and suddenly she wasn’t scared little Mara Peace anymore. She was Flamebird. A capable and confident superhero. “Where do we start?”</p><p>“Can you burn off all the soft tissue?” He asked. “Use your fire to get rid of finger prints, scars, tattoos. Any identifying marks.”</p><p>She gave a nod of affirmative.  </p><p>Spreading her stance a little –still hovering, her feet did not touch the ground- Flamebird held her arms at her sides, curled at the elbow. Her muscles twitched, then both arms erupted in bright, crimson fire. She brought her hands together and formed the fire into a ball. Building in intensity until it was glowed with white-hot light. Then she dropped her fireball on the body. </p><p>It caught quickly and the whole thing was engulfed in flames. </p><p>Battle felt the heat on his skin and had to take a step back. Normal gasoline did not burn that hot. </p><p>Hovering next to him, Flamebird shivered. She couldn’t possibly be cold. It was the middle of summer and the night was actually a bit warm. That was beside the bonfire funeral pyre they were standing in front of. She must be in shock. </p><p>Against his own better judgment, Battle wrapped an arm around her shoulders, offering up some of his own body heat for her. Her skin was a million times warmer than he could ever be even if he had a fever. Fire-supers ran hot and Flamebird was no exception. She still curled into his arm anyway. Flattening her side against his side. </p><p>They stood there for a few minutes watching the body burn. Synthetic fibers of its clothing, plastic buttons, metal zippers, and rubber of its shoes melting. Fat boiling out of the skin like a Thanksgiving turkey. Hair and fabrics turning to ash. Bones twisting and popping from the heat. It almost sounded like a normal camp fire. </p><p>But it did not smell like a normal camp fire. </p><p>“Is this it?” Asked Flamebird. “Just burn the body and we’re done?”</p><p>Without looking at her, Battle shook his head. “No. We still have to dispose of the remains and clean up so there’s no evidence. We can’t let anything be traced back to you, Sparky.”</p><p>“Oh.” She looked down at the puddle of blood on the pavement. Flamebird waved her hand and the blood caught fire too. “Should get rid of that too then.” </p><p>Battle had to let go of her to take a few more steps back to keep from catching fire himself. Sure, he regenerated after injury really quickly. But that still didn’t mean he enjoyed getting injured in the first place. And burns were particularly inconvenient because, while his skin and tissues repaired themselves and came back naturally, hair and fingernails did not. Hair and fingernails continued to grow normally. </p><p>Six months ago, when he told her he was a supervillain after sleeping with her, she burned his face off. Battle was bald for weeks while his hair grew back naturally from that event. He was not looking forward to a repeat. </p><p>Finally, when there was nothing left of the body but bones, the flames died down and Battle approached it again. </p><p>He held a hand over the bones to try and feel how much heat was still coming off them. After deciding they were safe enough to touch, he knelt down. Picking up the skull, Battle bashed the face against the pavement. He kept slamming it onto the ground until the front pallet finally broke and the teeth fell out. He collected all the teeth he could find, then chipped at the remaining jaw until the rest of them came loose. </p><p>Flamebird hovered over him. Watching everything he did. Biting the thumb of her glove nervously. She had no idea what he was doing or why. </p><p>“Dental records.” He explained. “In case the remains are ever found.”</p><p>She nodded. Still biting her thumb. </p><p>Next, Battle checked the bones themselves. Looking for bone grafts, joint replacements, a pacemaker. Anything with a serial number that could be traced to medical records that would lead to an identity of the body. </p><p>When he was satisfied, Battle stood again. He looked to the two dumpsters Mara had been huddled between when he first arrived. Throwing one open, Battle pulled out a large back trash bag. Emptied its contents out back into the dumpster. Then began gathering up what remained of the remains. </p><p>“What are you going to do?” Flamebird asked. </p><p>Battle looked up at her hovering above him. Still looking nervous and unsure, but worlds calmer and more at ease than when he first arrived at the scene. </p><p>“Do you really wanna know?” Battle asked. If she wanted to know, he would tell her. </p><p>Her lower lip quivered and for a quantum of a moment Battle thought she was going to say ‘yes’, she did want to know. Then Flamebird shook her head, no, she did not want to know. </p><p>Battle went back to collecting the bones –and any other teeth he might have missed. He kept the teeth separate from the rest of the bones. </p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Sparky.” He tried to reassure her. “I’ll take care of it. That’s all you need to know.”</p><p>She nodded. Accepting his words at face value. </p><p>When he was sure he got everything, Battle tied the bag shut. He popped the trunk of his car and laid out a utility blanket before tossing the bag in and slamming the trunk shut. </p><p>Flamebird was floating practically on top of him, and Battle nearly jumped at the feel of her hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t known she was there. He didn’t see her in his peripheral vision. </p><p>“Thank you.” She muttered to his ear. She floated around to be in front of him and sat on the recently closed trunk. “I don’t know- I’ve never- I didn’t think-“ She stumbled over her words. Unsure of what it was she even wanted to say. “I made a snap judgment about you a while ago, and I used my powers on you, and… I’m sorry.” She finally admitted. “You really- I don’t know what I would have done tonight if it weren’t for you. Tonight- you  were my  hero.”</p><p>Inwardly, Battle cringed. He hated being accused of being a hero. His father was a hero and he hated his father. It was the main reason that motivated him to become a villain in the first place. </p><p>“Don’t mention it, Spark-“</p><p>He was cut off when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. </p><p>Battle took a step back. Hand going to his mouth in disbelief. “Wha-!?”</p><p>“Oh.” Even in the dark, Battle could see her cheeks turning pink under her mask. “Right. It’s been half a year. You’ve probably got a girlfriend by now. Sorry. I didn’t mean to- That was wrong of me.”</p><p>“It wasn’t wrong.” He told her. He liked her. He liked her six months ago, and he still liked her now. In fact, he liked her so much that after only one date, he told her he was a supervillain! </p><p>But, actually, her kissing him right now, like this, when she was in such a state- that was not fine. He wanted her to like him back. But he wanted her to like him back because she liked him, not because she was in an overly emotional state and he just happened to be there. </p><p>“I’m just not- I don’t want-“ Now it was Battle’s turn to stumble over his words. He took in a breath. Then let it out as a sigh. “Look, Sparky, I like you. I don’t often help heroes and almost never for free. But, you’re not in the right kind of state of mind to be kissing people right now. Go home. Go to sleep. Get some rest. Call one of your friends tomorrow. If you still wanna kiss me after that, then give me a call. I’ll kiss you back then.”</p><p>She just stared at him. It was hard to read her expression behind the mask. </p><p>“Do you need me to drive you home?” He asked. </p><p>“No.” She shook her head, now avoiding eye-contact. “No, I can fly.”</p><p>She rose up into the air. </p><p>“Good night, Sparky.” He didn’t quite smile up at her. The events of tonight were nothing to smile about. But the pretty girl he’d been pining for, for the last six months just kissed him. So he was grinning a little. “Get some rest.”</p><p>“Thank you, Barron.” She nodded down at him. “I- I’ll call you.”</p><p>She flew away. </p><p>Battle climbed back into his car and drove away. She said she’d call him. But he wouldn’t sit by the phone waiting. Hero and villains were not meant to get along. </p><p>…</p><p>END</p>
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